


In which Stiles has never been so popular

by Rococo92



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-06 02:25:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1840879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rococo92/pseuds/Rococo92
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spoilers for 4.01. Once Scott and Braeden rescue Young! Derek from the ruins, the gang takes him home to Beacon Hills. Once they get there, it seems Derek has developed a crush on Stiles and is competing with Malia for his affections. Stiles doesn't really know what to do with either of them. Prompt fill for Tumblr user Alphaofdragons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In which Stiles has never been so popular

**Author's Note:**

> So, it's not quite what the prompt asked for, but more or less. Derek and Malia battle briefly for Stiles' affections, Derek wins when he's turned back to normal by Deaton. 
> 
> Based on this prompt:
> 
> alphaofdragons:
> 
> " What I really fucking need is a fic where young!Derek decides he quite likes Stiles and begins to flirt with him as they try and figure out how to age him back and kill Kate.   
> But Malia is still trying to get Stiles for herself by obviously making him her favourite and randomly draping herself all over Stiles.   
> So it’s like a massive love triangle with young!Derek and Malia hating on each other and Stiles very confused in the middle of all it.   
> But when they finally change Derek back, he’s retained all the memories from when he was younger with Stiles and finally makes the declaration that he loves Stiles even more now and Stiles is all ‘thank god you dumbass, I’ve been waiting forever’ and then they make out"

“Is that Derek?” Malia asks, squinting at the boy currently held up by Scott and Braeden. 

“Sort of,” Stiles replies with a sigh, as Derek lifts his head. As Stiles had suspected from the lack of muscles and the glaring absence of a beard, Derek has magically been turned into his fifteen year old self. Great. 

“Oh man, this is just what we need.” He adds, scrubbing his hair in frustration.

“Any sign of Kate?” Lydia demands, practical as always. Scott shakes his head. 

“We found him behind this Aztec sun stone thing. It’s a church for werejaguars!” Scott explains, panic evident in his voice. “We should probably get out of here, there was something in there with us.” 

Scott and Braeden haul Derek over to Stiles’ jeep and dump him in the passenger seat. Derek’s eyes are flying around and it’s obvious that he’s scared. 

“Hey, Derek, buddy. You know us, okay?” Stiles attempts as he gets behind the wheel. He resists the urge to stick his hand beneath Derek’s nose while saying:”Take a good whiff, boy.” 

Derek seems to be doing that, anyway, surreptiously sniffing the jeep and everyone in it. It’s a bit cramped, so Scott agrees to ride back to Mexico City with Braeden. Maybe there they can put Derek in the back with the girls, as he takes up less space than Scott in his current form.

“This car smells familiar. I smell my own blood.” Derek says, fingers trailing over the seat that, yes, has seen Derek’s blood a couple of times now. 

“That’s because you bled all over my seats, dude.” Stiles says with what he hopes is a comforting smile. “But I guess you don’t remember, because you’ve been turned into fifteen year old you.” 

“What do you mean, I bled all over this seat?” Derek says, eyes flashing blue. 

Malia leans forward in her seat. “It means you were wounded and bled on the jeep, dumbass.” 

“Hey, rude!” Stiles interjects. “But yeah, that’s the gist. You got shot with a wolfsbane bullet and made me help you. It was very stressful. You nearly convinced me to cut off your arm, but Scott got back in time so, y’know, no arm-cutting necessary.” Stiles is aware he’s rambling, but he’s not sure how to act around this version of Derek, who seems so innocent, even though he’s already got the blue eyes. 

It’s weird having Derek look at him with something other than annoyance.

“So, what do you remember, Derek?” Kira says, effectively changing the topic.   
“There was this woman. She locked me up in some sort of ancient vault. It smelled really bad in there. She knew me, I think. But I didn’t recognise her, even though her scent was familiar. She smelled weird. Like something was wrong with her.” Derek sighs deeply, staring out the window. 

“Where are we? Where’s my mom?” 

“Yeah, about that…” 

\---

 

Telling Derek the story of Kate and her burning down almost his entire family was an unpleasant task, but certainy necessary. Derek didn’t really believe them, anyway. He said he could still feel family, out there, somewhere. 

When they finally got back to Beacon Hills, Derek made them drop him off at the Hale house, which confirmed their story. Derek cries , deep heaving sobs that wreck his body. The others just stand helplessly by, not sure how to comfort someone that, despite the age-swap, is still Derek Hale, who never seems to want to need anybody. 

“Where do I go now?” He asks Stiles. Stiles looks at the others, looking for answers that no one really has. 

“I guess we should stay at your loft tonight?” He offers. Kira says she should probably go home and tell her mother about what happened. She may be able to help turn back Derek. In her 900 years, she must have picked up some magic knowledge. 

Lydia, Scott and Malia all agree to camp out at Derek’s loft tonight and call Deaton tomorrow morning. They drop off Kira first and then head to the loft. 

Derek visibly relaxed once he’s inside the loft, the familiar scent of himself and pack surrounding him. 

“Peter?” he calls out, “Uncle Peter? Are you here?” 

Peter jumps down from the stairs, just as dramatic as always. He eyes his nephew carefully, seeming not even a little bit shocked. 

“What happened to you, nephew?” He asks, cool as a cucumber. 

Derek shrugs and steps closer, closer than the older Derek had ever voluntarily gotten to Peter. 

“’m not sure. They claim to be my friends, my…my pack.” He looks up at his uncle desperately. “Are they? Can we trust them?” 

Peter regards them, eyebrows raised sardonically. Everyone shifts uncomfortably, well aware that Peter could ruin everything if he so much as-  
“Yeah, Derek. We can trust them. They just don’t always trust us.” 

Or more specifically, we don’t trust you, Peter. Stiles thinks maliciously. Peter always makes him feel uneasy, even when he’s not really doing anything. 

Malia steps closer to Stiles, resting a hand on his shoulder. “We should order pizza, or something.” She suggests, tugging him towards the phone. “I’m sure everyone is pretty hungry.” 

\---

They all settle onto the couch once the pizza gets there and the eating of the pizza pretty much leaves everyone silent. Stiles is kinda glad for it, because things were about to get hella awkward. Not that they’re not awkward now, though. Malia is pressed onto his right side, leaning into him as she eats her pizza. On the left side, Derek’s knee touches his own, which Stiles is pretty sure is on purpose. No werewolf is that oblivious about touch. 

Peter seems to agree with Stiles, if his knowing look is anything to go by. 

Once the pizza is gone, the silence starts becoming awkward. After about fifteen minutes, in which Malia keeps stroking his arm and Derek has placed a hand onto Stiles’ knee, Stiles has had enough and jumps up from the couch. 

“I’m gonna go get my laptop and then we can all watch a movie. Deal? Deal!” He runs out of Derek’s loft like a bat out of hell, followed by Derek himself. 

“Can I come with you?” He asks, raising his eyebrows suggestively. Malia joins Derek at the door. “Yeah, can I come?” She asks with a purr. Things are getting even more awkward, so Stiles blows both of them off and heads home for his laptop. 

\---

Luckily, his dad is on the night shift, so he can get in and out without an interrogation taking place. He’s so not in the mood for one of those tonight. Besides, he gets the feeling that if he doesn’t get back soon, Malia and Derek may fight each other over this weird sharing-Stiles-problem they seem to be having. Regular Derek sure didn’t seem as possessive of Stiles as Young Derek is. 

Still confused and slightly flattered at all of the attention he’s getting- Stiles is aware he’s not a very good person, okay- he makes his way back to the loft, where things are surprisingly peaceful. Scott is regaling the group with the tale of how Stiles and he met- in the sandbox- and everyone seems to be enjoying themselves. 

“I’ve got some Marvel, the Dark Knight trilogy and a couple of Jennifer Aniston’s finest rom-coms.” He says, waving his laptop bag. “What are we in the mood for?”

“Whatever you want, Stiles.” Derek says with a leer, which is really weird, because usually Derek leers at Stiles in a way that suggests he’d like to kill Stiles in horrifically graphic ways. This time, though…This time, Derek is flirting with him. With him! Stiles Stilinski is being hot on by Derek “Hottie” Hale. Holy shit.  
“Let’s watch a rom-com,” Malia suggests, winking at Stiles. “We can cuddle up on the couch together.” Seriously, Stiles has never been so popular. There must be something in the water.

“I’ve seen all of them,” Scott comments from his position on the couch, and bless Scott, because Stiles is not in the mood for a romantic movie. Who knows where that could lead?

In the end, they settle on the first Dark Knight, because Derek hasn’t seen it yet. It seems weird to Stiles, because the movie came out a few years ago, but then again, Derek has turned fifteen recently. 

They all snuggle up on the couch, Peter’s lurking somewhere in the background, but he’s also watching the movie along with them, so they don’t mind so much. Plus, he seems to calm Derek down, who’s once again stuck to Stiles’ left. He keeps rubbing his fingers over Stiles' thigh and knee, vague patterns. He doesn't seem aware he's doing it and Stiles kinda likes it, because he can't focus on the movie anyway, so he lets it happen. 

By the time the credits start rolling, Derek has fallen asleep, his nose pushed into Stiles’ ribs, his legs stretched across Lydia’s thighs. She looks over at him with a small smile, murmers:“Looks like someone’s got a crush on you, Stilinski.” As if. Like Derek would ever find him attractive. Even if Derek is currently less Derek-y than Stiles likes him to be and more on par with Stiles’ general situation (i.e not particularly muscular, but broad-shouldered and sort of fit.) Also, Derek seems a lot more touchy-feely as a teenager. Whatever, Stiles will take whatever he can get. 

Malia looks up from the screen and over at where Derek is sleeping, her eyes flashing bright blue. A light rumble comes from her throat and Stiles just raises his brows at her, as if to say: “What the fuck, dude?” 

Malia seems to get the message and drops the attitude, draping an arm over Stiles’ shoulders and nuzzling into his neck. Seems like he’s been made into a real-life teddybear for supernatural creatures. His life, at this point, seems to mock him at every turn. 

Peter steps away from his chair behind the couch and lifts Derek into his arms.   
“He should probably sleep in his own bed tonight. He’ll be disoriented enough in the morning.” Even though Peter is still creepy as fuck, he at least cares about his nephew.   
Malia takes the opportunity to pull down Stiles onto herself, effectively making him into a blanket. Stiles is so confused and sleepy that he doesn’t really care what the hell is happening here. 

\---

A loud growl wakes Stiles up from his peaceful slumber. He doesn’t have many of those anymore, so he’s well within his rights to be pissed off at the person disturbing his rest.   
He squints open one eye to see Malia and Derek circling each other, Lydia and Peter watching from a safe distance, both looking amused. Scott is nowhere to be found, presumably picking up Deaton so they can fix this whole mess. 

“Seriously, you guys.” Stiles exclaims, once he realises Malia and Derek are not performing some sort of strange dance, but are actually gearing up for a fight. 

“What the hell is wrong with you? You don’t even know each other well enough to be fighting already!” 

Peter lets out a derisive snort and says: “ They’re fighting over you, you imbecile.”   
“If only you had fallen asleep on your own last night, Stiles, then this wouldn’t be happening.” Lydia adds, her tone bored as usual. 

Before any fighting can actually happen though, Deaton and Scott arrive. Deaton is carrying his mystery suitcase, filled with- well, whatever he uses when he’s performing his duties as an emissary, rather than being a vet. 

“Ah.” Deaton sighs. “I see we have a problem. Derek, if you could stop growling at Malia and come to me, please?” 

Derek barely looks up from the intense staring-contest he and Malia appear to be having. 

“Derek, dude!” Stiles yells. “Deaton’s here to fix you.” 

That certainly gets him Derek’s attention, but instead of going to Deaton, he attacks Stiles with a bearhug. “I love you, Stiles,” he mumbles against Stiles’ neck.   
Stiles pats his back awkwardly, not really wanting to do anything inappropriate. Derek will probably kill him later, anyway. It’s not like the actual Derek- or actually Older Derek- really feels that way about him. Even if Stiles did get a sense of a slight boner going on there. When he was fifteen, he got boners all the time. Still does, actually. 

It’s best for everyone’s sanity if they get Derek back to normal as quickly as possible. Stiles’ crush is growing exponentially now that the feelings are obviously being returned and that’s just not fair. 

“Okay, buddy. Let’s get Deaton to have a look at you, okay.”

Deaton takes a place on the couch, where Stiles leads Derek. He examines Derek for a few minutes, prodding him with a few strange looking devices and sprinkling some liquid onto his skin. 

“Hmm. It appears Derek has regressed back to his fifteen year old self.” Deaton proclaims, earning him a loud: “No shit, Sherlock.” from Stiles. 

“As he doesn’t remember anything past this point in his life, we can safely assume that he can be changed back without any issues. Derek shouldn’t remember this after he…has returned to us.” Deaton continues as if he hasn’t heard Stiles. 

Everyone sighs in relief. “Well, kindly get on with it, Doctor.” Peter encourages smugly from his perch on the stairs. 

Deaton takes a few minutes to prepare the mixture Derek will have to drink, which smells disgusting even to Stiles’ human nose. He can see Scott gagging behind Deaton and doesn’t know how Derek is going to be able to drink it. It kinda looks like Hermione’s Polyjuice Potion, if Stiles is gonna be honest. 

Derek, to his credit, doesn’t seem fazed and drinks the mixture with a scrunched up face. Slowly, he starts morphing into the bigger, older Derek, which is a disconcerting sight. 

“Derek?” Deaton asks, as Derek just keeps blinking into space for a few minutes. 

“Oh god, you totally screwed it up!” Malia exclaims, “You’ve made him…what’s the word? Like, he’s not all there!” 

“I’m fine, Malia.” Derek grumbles suddenly, his eyes focussing on the room. “That tasted gross.” He adds, pulling a face that is both hilarious and slightly adorable. 

“So…” Stiles starts, nervously. “You remember anything?” He licks his lips, mouth suddenly desert dry. 

Derek follows the movement of his tongue with his eyes and says: “Yeah. Everything.” His tone implies that This Is Significant, but Stiles is really not getting it. Is Derek angry about his accidental love-confession accompanied by teenage boner?

Stiles shuffles backwards a little, giving Derek his space- and getting ready to flee, if necessary. 

“Getting told your family’s dead twice must’ve sucked, huh.” Malia remarks crudely from the kitchen, carrying a glass of water. 

“Here, get that disgusting taste out of your mouth.” She hands Derek the glass and sits behind Stiles on the couch, tucking her chin on his shoulder. Derek narrows his eyes at her and sets the glass down on the table without drinking from it. It seems to issue a challenge of some sort. 

Deaton prods Derek some more and declares him officially okay, before taking off. The guy’s always such a treat to be around. 

“Guys, if you could give Stiles and I a minute to talk.” Derek suggests, without actually appropriating a suggestive tone. It’s impressive, Derek’s lack of vocal question marks. 

Malia seems relunctant to leave, but Peter and Lydia manage to coax her away with the promise of Starbucks, which has become Malia’s favourite thing. 

\---

Once they’re alone, Derek scoots closer to Stiles and graps his hands with his own. 

“Stiles. What I said, before Deaton gave me the cure…” Derek starts, stopping in the middle of his sentence like he doesn’t know how to continue. Stiles, however, knows where he’s going with this. 

“Dude, no problem. Your teenage-self probably smelled all of this-“ he gestures to himself,” mess of hormones and thought we were like…involved or something. Totally my fault, I know you don’t feel that way.” 

Derek frowns at him and his grip on Stiles’ hands tightens. It doesn’t hurt nearly as much as the thought of Derek’s imminent rejection. 

That’s not what happens, though. 

“No, Stiles. I meant it. I meant what I said. It just took me being fifteen again to realise that these feelings I have for you aren’t going away and-“ 

Stiles interrupts him:”You have feelings for me? Like, actual looooove-feelings?” Derek nods earnestly. 

“Oh thank god, you dumbass. I thought you were going to reject me!” Stiles screeches, not at all attractively. He’s lucky Derek already loves him and has seen him in more embarrasing situations. 

“Do you…Do you feel the same about me?” Derek asks, sounding unsure. 

“Do I ever!” Stiles exclaims, before grasping Derek’s face- Derek’s handsome, bearded face- with his hands and pulling it towards him. He attacks Derek with his mouth, tongues meeting in a desperate manner. Stiles sighs happily into Derek’s mouth as Derek pulls Stiles closer, almost halfway onto his lap. 

“Oh, gross!” Malia yells, as she drops her Starbucks coffee on the floor. 

“Finally…” Lydia mutters, before dragging Malia back out the door. “Let’s give these two some privacy, hmm?”


End file.
